Moments Of Oblivion
by ScarletDeva
Summary: The war between good and evil has been raging for about three years now and no one is safe from its ravages. Especially not those at the epicenter of it. Now all they have to figure out is a way to forget. Even if only for a moment. D/Hr Sexual content
1. Part 1: How The Moments Began

Moments Of Oblivion 

by: ScarletDeva

Summary: The war between good and evil has been raging for about three years now and no one is safe from its ravages.  Especially not those caught in choices they no longer understand or want to deal with.  Now all they have to figure out is a way to forget.  Even if it only lasts a moment.

Author's Note: I had a dark vision of the war with Voldemort. If you think about it, nothing in the world is black and white. My question was how would some of my favorite characters deal with a gray world. This ficlet is slightly disturbing in its themes.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not yours probably either. Oh well.

Rating: R.

Dedications: Airelle Vilka – my HP obsession is all your fault missy. Aislin BlueStar – even if you think I'm retarded over my character choices, I still like you…for now. And of course, Megs – I love your confidence and interest in my writing.

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Part 1: How The Moments Began 

Hermione headed from the library back to her room, her body moving lethargically.  The war had permeated the whole world, unsparing even of those who should be sheltered from such ravages of reality, the young, the innocent.  It seemed that no one was either of those any longer.

Last weekend, Padma Patil was cornered by a gang of dark wizards.  She refused to join them and went out in a blaze of glory, taking them out with her.  Hermione, as the Head Girl, spoke at the funeral service.

She breathed out tiredly and shifted her bag to the other shoulder, her semi-unbuttoned robes pulling slightly open with the movement.

***

Draco Malfoy stalked away from Professor Snape's office, not really heading anywhere in particular.  He grunted angrily and punched the wall, not breaking his stride.  Snape asked him to become a spy for Dumbledore, knowing that Draco did not have any real desire to become a Death Eater.  Draco rolled his shoulders uncomfortably.  He didn't want to be involved, not with Voldemort, not with Dumbledore, not with anything that didn't appeal to his temporary and ever-morphing whimsy.

"Oomph," he heard a female voice as he felt his body collide with something soft.  He looked down and met a familiar pair of mahogany eyes.

"Granger," he sneered tiredly.  She moved back and adjusted her bag as it had been jolted from position by their accident.  Without bothering to reply, she stared at him, willing him to move to the side and let her pass.  He stood still.  She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, her robes opening further.  He absently noted that what was under the robes did not look like the Gryffindor uniform.  Unless of course they changed it to a fitted, dark purple shirt and what looked like a pair of snug, dark blue pants made of some rough material.

"Hey!" she called out for the second time, snapping her fingers near his face.  He shook his head, his loose light blond strands brushing over his forehead.  "Are you really in the mood to pick a fight now?" she asked, her voice turning soft and somewhat defeated.

"No," he replied, his own tone emphatic.  "I… I was just wondering what was the point of all of this," he added in a startling moment of clarity.  Not knowing what to expect, his darkened gray eyes searched the floor for any cracks.  A loud thud had him jerking his head up, finding that she dropped her bag absently and was staring at him with rounded, tempestuous eyes.

"None. There is no point," she declared and started to laugh.  Her amusement did not seem to reach her eyes but in another moment her eyes were hidden by her delicately tapered fingers and she was sinking to the floor.  He watched her, arms hanging limply, unsure what the proper reaction would be, if indeed there was one.  She leaned back against the wall, her robe slipping off her shoulders, and struggled for air and laughed.  Finally he quirked an eyebrow and she laughed yet harder as she noticed.  "There's no point Malfoy. None whatsoever."  She shook her head, a few wisps of unruly honey brown hair escaping the messy knot.  "You have to have a reason to fight.  Voldemort and his minions have one. Power. But us… all we have left is a tired feeling of opposition."  She noted his jaw drop ever so slightly.  "Oh we'll beat them, have no doubt," she added, "but we will be left with nothing. Because we don't have anything left in us to rebuild."  She let her head drop back against the wall and giggled weakly.  Suddenly his face was right in front of hers, his eyes swirling with dark emotion.

"Fuck Granger," he spat out, "why the hell are you talking like that?"

"Why the hell do you care?" she asked, her amusement weak in the face of her overwhelming exhaustion.  Her latest battle scar ached as the edge of her robe rubbed against the burn.  She winced.

"Granger swearing?" he asked, hiding his discomfort and surprise at her words.  

She smiled wryly, noting it despite his best efforts.  "Oh come now, we all know that you don't really care who wins this war. Or what happens after."  She tapped a finger on his chin.  "So why do you care about how I talk?"

"Oh please," he said, "I just don't like to see the world flip itself on its head."  She raised her hand again, her pointer finger outstretched and he smoothly grabbed it before she could tap him again.

"And why, if I may ask, is the world flipping from my words?" she whispered mockingly.  His eyes narrowed into thin slits.

"There are only a few constants in this world Granger," he replied thoughtfully, "Dumbledore is a little kooky. Potter is everybody's Golden Boy. Lockhart is a fool. And finally, Granger is always fighting for equality and good and all such nonsense. Take away any of that and I'm no longer sure what world we're in."  He leaned just a bit closer, trying to see some glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"Get over it," she laughed.  "I'm all out of righteousness. All emptied out. The balance is down to zero."  She lifted her head and brought her eyes an inch away from his.  "I'm no one's hero anymore."

"Shut up," he forced out though clenched teeth.

"No," she denied him, her eyes full of something he couldn't identify.  He growled under his breath and breached the final distance between them.  His lips landed on hers, immediately taking possession.  She gasped.

"Shut up!" he growled against her mouth and his arms shot out to yank her body against his as his tongue sneaked past her lips which were parted with shock.  She tasted faintly of char and muffins.  He meant only to make her stop talking but her taste intrigued him, made him curious for the first time in a long time.  He flicked his tongue against hers.  He almost pulled back when he felt her respond, but she didn't give him a chance, as her arms grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forward.  He lost his balance and fell against her.  She bit his lower lip, hard enough to hurt, but not to pierce skin.  His original intent did not matter anymore.  He shifted over her, making himself as comfortable as possible with his knees on the hard stone floor, as he tried to lose himself in her mouth.  

She thrust her tongue into his mouth, delighting in the shivers racing over her skin.  Her hands reached up to tug at his dark robes, ripping them open, her questing fingers sneaking under his shirt to skim over his hard abs.  

He felt himself get aroused, hard and quick, and grasped the back of her head with his hand, pushing her mouth as hard as possible against his own.  She slurred something into his mouth and wrenched away from his hold.  He stilled, wondering if she was going to hex him into tomorrow and craving another taste of what felt like oblivion.  She didn't reach for her wand but pushed his face to turn sideways and latched on the side of his neck with her lips, suckling hard.  He groaned and suddenly nothing mattered again, not his name, not his place in the world that was torn apart by two fiercely opposed powers.

She allowed her hands to run upward over his chest, pulling up his black sweater with her movements, while his hands quested over her sides, kneading her softly.  She moaned into his skin, overwhelmed with the physical sensations, forgetting everything but the moment.  She liked it that way.  She moved off his neck just long enough to admire the angry red blotch and then quickly pulled off his robes, then his sweater, with his eager assistance.  Her fingers flicked at his skin, and she smiled, drunk on the power that his groans evoked in her.  She shifted, allowing his knees to prop her thighs apart and clamped her mouth on a small, pebbled nipple.  He threw his head back and blindly reached to tear her shirt.  His hands encountered only smooth skin under it.  Her teeth worried his skin gently as her nails scraped over his back.

"Wha…?" he gasped, reaching for the zipper of her pants.

"Make me forget Draco, just make me forget," she half commanded half pleaded.  He nodded and pulled the zipper.  She bit his collarbone and pushed his hands away, expertly removing the rest of her clothing.  His fingers tore at his pants, the buttons flying off.  He rolled over for a moment to shuck them off and lunged back over her.

"I will. If you can make it all go away," he affirmed, staring into her now brown-black eyes. She nodded and he slipped his fingers under her hips, repositioning her just right, set his palms against the floor and pushed in.  She banged her head down against the floor, her eyes filling with tears at the sudden pain.  He froze, but she slipped her palms over his behind and pushed him forward.  He grunted, his hips beginning a merciless rhythm.  She smiled.  Their bodies slammed against each other harshly, each time eliciting satisfied moans.  Nothing existed anymore, just Draco, Hermione and the mindless moment of abandon.

***

He screamed out incoherently and she arched up, her own scream silently ripping out of her mouth.  They both collapsed down, his body pressing hers into the slick gray marble.

"Nothing else is here anymore," she whispered as her arms hugged him limply.  The scratches on his back contrasted angrily with his pale skin.

"Mhmm," he replied into her shoulder.  "It's better this way."  And that was all they had to say.  Soon, Hermione would have to get up and finish her trek to the Gryffindor Tower before her friends sent out a search party and Draco would have to get back to teetering precariously on the wall between good and evil.  Both were caught in a tiring existence and both couldn't help but think that soon enough they would wind up back in this position, struggling to forget, to let go.  He smiled just a bit at the thought and she laughed, loudly joyfully.  And they continued to stay that way; Hermione spread on the floor, all loose, naked limbs, and Draco slumped on top of her, bits of his hair tickling her cheek.


	2. Part 2: And How They Continued

Moments Of Oblivion 

by: ScarletDeva

Author's Note: This is turning out to be a series of random moments. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not yours probably either. Oh well.

Rating: R.

Review Responses:

'me' – Thank you for your kind words and I hope that you will read and like more of what I write.

'J. Rolande' – Thank you for the lovely constructive comments. I hope you like this part too.

'Airelle Vilka' – Glad you're happy. And I like the way that I do Draco too. No pun. LOL.

'Fiery Slut' – I do have more D/Hr stuff planned. And I would love to get more graphic but FFnet will have my ass if I do.

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Part 2: And How They Continued 

Draco stalked into the library like a caged predator, the space too small, his movements implicitly dangerous.  He just burned another letter from Lucius and just barely avoided Snape in the intricate mess of Slytherin dungeon hallways.  It was the exactly adequate ending to a perfectly horrid week.  His eyes moved smoothly over the rows of books, all arranged neatly, a wide array of colors and sizes.  Just a few more months and he'd be able to get away from the mess that was the Wizard world.  He allowed a small smirk to lift the very edges of his lips.  Yes, Draco Malfoy was going to go into hiding amongst the Muggles.  He swept forward, striding past Mrs. Pince and in the direction of the Restricted Section.  He turned the corner with ease and stopped, allowing himself to lean against a bookcase.

Hermione sighed tiredly, having been unable to sleep to sleep for several days after yet another fierce battle with a large group of Death Eaters.  Jared Hawke, a fifth year Hufflepuff, had to be sent to St. Mungo's for special medical treatment as Madame Pomfrey lacked the ability to cure his advanced wounds and severe burns.  The particular moment when he had been hit with the curse that caused those wounds and burns had been replaying in her mind non-stop.  The worst was when she lay in bed trying to fall asleep.  The images would appear in Technicolor and surround sound and she was helpless to push them away.  Even once she fell asleep, they would haunt her… the screams, the blood, her inability to keep her squad safe.  She shook her head, her unbound mess of hair tickling her bare arms.  It was best to keep busy.  Busy, busy, busy, and not think about what could make it all go away.

Draco lingered, unsure whether he should call her name or find a better way to get her attention.  Her reflexes had become a legend amongst the gossipers in Hogwarts and he wasn't sure if she wouldn't hex him reflexively.  For the moment he contented himself by running his eyes over his only mode of oblivion.  She wore another fitted scrap of a shirt, this one a deep maroon, and tight black pants that flared out over her pale, bare feet.  He let himself remember who she used to be and wondered what the Hermione of long ago would have to say about who she had become.

"Are you going to say anything or just stare at me?" she asked suddenly in a very low tone of voice.

"You knew I was there…" he affirmed, crossing his arms over his dark blue sweater.

"Hard not to know," she replied without turning around, still shifting through the large pile of DADA textbooks.  "You I can pick out of a crowd on a foggy day."

He gaped for a moment, uncomfortable with what she might be implying.  She spun around, her solemn dark eyes peering at him with an exhaustion he's only ever seen in his mirror.  Dark smudges under her eyes matched the ones he would have had if not for a convenient Obscura Charm.

She walked up to him and rocked forward onto her toes, straining up, her eyes so very close to his startled gray ones.  "Did you want to forget again?" she asked, her voice a mere whisper.  He nodded hesitantly.  She allowed herself to feel the cold floor over the whole length of her soles and reached both hands up to brush the tips of her fingers over his cheeks, before slipping her arms around his neck and tugging him down to allow her mouth to make contact with him.

He smiled briefly as he obeyed her direction, a smile that was gone the moment his lips met hers.  He parted his lips to allow her eager tongue entry and once again tasted a flavor combination that he had come to associate with her from just one encounter, char and muffins.  His hands slid over her back and under her shirt, a light fleeting touch.

She slid her leg up his, hooking it around his hip, trying frantically to get as close as possible.  She could feel his body react as his muscles clenched, his hands became more forceful, his mouth more harsh on hers.  He smoothed a hand over her still standing leg and lifted it, Hermione reacting instinctively and linking her ankles behind him.  Both hands under her bottom now, he made the few necessary steps to the table and set her down on the very edge.  He tried to pull back and she whimpered into his mouth, her arms tightening around his neck.

"Shhh," he whispered, after drawing back a little, and swept the books to the side, pushing her down onto the smooth wood.  His fingers swept her shirt up to right under her armpits and he grinned wolfishly, once again finding only skin underneath.  He bent his head over her stomach and bit down gently.  She stifled a moan, the sound only barely loud enough for him to hear, as her hands wound themselves in his soft hair.  He blew a quick stream of air onto the slightly red spot and made a wet trail over her chest, stopping to nuzzle at the proud evidence of her arousal.

She wound her legs around his hips again, trying to feel him against her, her neck arching her head back to accommodate him.  "Draco," she breathed, a small bit of pleading and an impatient order in her tone.  He lifted his mouth from tormenting a little hollow at her throat and grinned again, his eyes full of a feeling that was easy enough to decipher, relief.  She tugged on his hair and pulled him into another fierce kiss.  Any feel of him on her skin was as good as an Obliviate Charm.  He tugged her lower lip into his mouth, sucking on it and she felt him shiver.  Her hands left his head and unceremoniously traveled under his sweater.  He shivered harder.

He let go of her lip and moved away just an inch before commenting, "Damn you," without any malice, or even a smidgeon of negative emotion.  The taste of her was addictive, that taste that made it seems as if nothing else mattered, and there was nothing in the whole world but him, her and all the clothes in his way.  He dropped a brief kiss on her lips and pulled back, his shirt staying in her firm grip.  He allowed it to come over his head and unzipped her pants quickly, setting two fingers on each side to swiftly tug them off along with her panties.  He tossed the annoying pieces of clothing down and quickly unbuttoned his own pants, dropping them and his dark green boxers to pool around his feet.  He stepped out and slipped off his shoes and socks with a speed that clearly underlined his urgency.  He looked up to see her propped on one elbow, her dark brown eyes watching him with amusement and impatience.  He growled under his breath and lunged forward, so very male in his nudity.  His hands found the small of her back and pushed her forward to the very edge of the table again.  She smiled, the predatory look in her face so incongruent with who she was supposed to be that he nearly froze.  She wrapped her legs loosely around him in response and he moved closer again, bending over her.  His fingers took hold of her hips and he drove forward.

Her eyes snapped wide open and then shut closed.  She needed this, needed this man who was neither enemy nor friend, needed the sense of nothing but the physical that only he could provide.  As he established a fast paced rhythm, her arms sneaked under his arms, her palms coming to rest over his shoulders, and she pressed herself against his bare skin, forgetting everything, even what her friends would think were they to find out.  The memory of this very act had sustained her over a week of pain, exhaustion and dread.  She wanted more memories.  Her hands tensed and her nails raked over his exposed skin, adding more marks to the faintly pink ones that she made the week before.

He hissed, the brief pain pushing him further into a place where nothing mattered but the feelings she was causing to spring up in the most unusual areas.  So what if doing what he was doing with her would have him Avada Kedavra'd in under ten seconds by his father or her friends.  This was the feeling that got him though the murky days where he tried so carefully not to step off the middle road, Snape's voice, Lucius' letters all gone in a brief movement of her fingers.

***

Another tremor shook her body and she pressed her fingers into the tender flesh of his ass.

A small sound escaped his throat and he could feel the end approaching.  He lowered his head into her shoulder and bit down, muffling the would-be moan into her.  She jerked under him, a fresh onslaught of tremors quaking her body.  Her hands skimmed up over his back and she dropped back to lie on the table.  He stared at her intently.

"Thank you," she said quietly.  He nodded and pulled out of her body, moving briskly to gather his clothes and slip them on.  She mimicked his actions, quickly putting on the discarded clothing as she came upon it.

"Oblivion," he said idly, "can be habit forming."

She finished pulling her shirt on and looked at him.  "Yes. That's the idea."  He zipped his pants, straightened his sweater and nodded, before walking out and leaving her staring at his gracefully moving form.  She smiled and turned back to her books.  For now, that was enough to chase the demons away.


	3. Part 3: When Her Colors Bled Together

Moments Of Oblivion 

by: ScarletDeva

Author's Note: And another one. Apparently they make do with about once a week. I don't know if I will do every week they have left till graduation but I will try. Review please.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not yours probably either. Oh well.

Dedicated to: Shawn, who encourages my damn HP muse, and Wild-Melody, who is just plain cool.

Rating: R.

Review Responses:

'Airelle Vilka' – I cannot believe you called Snape Snapey-poo. Be ashamed. A lot. LOL. Meanwhile, I will be christening many other places in the castle in this manner… Heh.

'HarryPotterWanter' – Thank you. They're slightly loony I think. Anyway, keep reading and you will know all. Oh and thanks for giving me another idea for one of these episodes. Heh.

'Fiery Slut' – Torrid was the idea. And I am trying to update quite a bit. This fic won't let me stop for some reason.

'Hartfelt' – Thanks chiquita.

'Dagmar' – Well as long as you liked dear…

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Part 3: When Her Colors Bled Together 

Hermione walked out of the secret entrance to the Headmaster's office, her shoulders stiff, her face as pale as newly fallen snow and her eyes darkened to a brown so deep that it was almost black.  She just reported back from her latest scout mission, three dead and two badly wounded.  It was a trap, a setup and she fell for it.  Walked right in like an idiot child.  Her second-in-command was hit with three Curses at once.  She couldn't help, having to defend herself against a high-ranking Death Eater.  Adia Marnes, her friend, her co-conspirator in silly jokes to play on the other prefects and the Head Boy, died screaming her name in warning.  So Hermione lived and Adia was in a better place, supposedly.  Along with Gavin Dunnesbury and Shelton Windemere.  It'd be a miracle if the other two survived.  Antigone Rose was Shelton's younger sister and Hermione did not want to face the Windemeres with the two death announcements.  She did not want to face the Dunnesburys. Or the Marnes'.  Or the parents of Mali Avery, who just happened to be an only child.  Antigone and Mali just had to live. Had to had to had to.  Hermione broke into a furious run, refusing to think about anything, life, death, people, Hogwarts… anything but oblivion.

Draco climbed out of the portrait entrance to the Slytherin common room into the general dungeon area.  It was just past curfew and he was tired of sitting around with his foolish House-mates.  They were all either talking about licking Voldemort's behind or, well a small group anyway, discussing battle strategy against the said Dark Lord.  He wanted no part of it.  He turned a corner, then another and felt something barrel into him, slamming him into the wall.

"Make me forget, now!" he was roughly ordered in a voice that did not sound completely familiar.  It was ragged, low, and full of anguish.  The dim light of the dungeon hallways allowed him to make out Hermione's face.  It was smudged with soot and streaked with blood, one cut near her lip still bleeding freely.  He pushed her back a little, examining her quickly.  The heavy-duty black leather pants, which the Hogwarts student squads have been using as uniform, were ripped in places and blood could be seen coagulating between the gaping holes of the fabric.  Her fitted black shirt was shredded, covered with dirt, ashes and more blood than could have been hers.  He finally lifted his gaze to meet hers and was startled at her expression.  She was glaring, impatience glowing in her eyes, a very single-minded impatience.  He swallowed.

"Now!" she said again and yanked his head towards her, almost bumping their foreheads.  Their mouths clashed and she shoved him against the wall again, her hands ripping apart his robes immediately and zeroing in on his pants.  He gasped into her mouth as her palm settled over his zipper, and she bit his tongue, feeling him grow and stiffen under her hand.  Suddenly, she had power over what happened in her life, even if it was as simple as this, if this could be called simple.

He ripped his mouth away from hers and began nipping his way across her jaw, his hands settling firmly on her hips.  She leaned into his kisses and moaned, her free hand slipping under his shirt and straight for a pebbled nipple.  He groaned, bucking his hips into her palm, which immediately began small circular movements, eliciting more groans from him.  He ducked his head and bit the tender skin on the side of her neck.  She jerked, pressing up against him, her busy hands exerting more tantalizing pressure on his sensitive body.  The flow of feeling that she was causing in him blanked out the world.  Voldemort could show up just then and all he wanted to do was… He laved at her neck and then moved up to her ear, caressing the delicate shell with an eager tongue.  He felt her whole body tremble violently and his hands caressed her stomach and skimmed higher, her trembling intensifying, until he reached the collar and yanked.  The black fabric fluttered down and she swayed against him, her hands suddenly abandoning their tasks and, judging by the metallic twang, moving to undo his zipper.  Her fingers sneaked into the opening at the front of his boxers and the skin on skin contact, the first that week, made him snarl with the terribly sweet ache of it.  He spun her around, pushing her against the wall, his hands discovering the sturdy but delicate lines of her black bra.  Impatient, he slipped his fingers under the under-wire and yanked it up, leaving it hanging limply over her chest.  His tireless fingertips roamed over the newly bared skin, tugging, pinching, caressing.

She leaned back against the wall, her body limp, with only her hands showing any signs of life as they skillfully finished undoing his pants and maneuvered them down his legs along with his boxers.  She explored the re-discovered area blindly, her eyes never leaving his face, which was stamped with a frown of intense concentration.  His jaw tensed as she let her fingers enclose around the very stiff evidence of his arousal.  She moaned lightly as he found a particularly sensitive spot on her ribs and tightened her hold, moving her fingers up and down slowly.  This was about control, taking it, letting go of it, and she was determined to prove to herself, and by extension the world, that she could do both and force him to do the same.  A few quick tugs in succession and he snarled, slapping her hands away.

He grabbed her zipper and yanked it savagely, shoving the pants and the panties down harshly.  She made him lose control and his father would have him killed if he knew but he liked it.  A lot.  He stepped out of his own clothes and removed the offending items from around her feet, tossing them all callously to the side.  She responded by tugging on the hem of his sweater and he smirked unconsciously as he allowed her to remove it.  He stalked closer to her, leaving her almost melded into the wall and grabbed her hips, lifting her up, allowing her to wrap her legs around his hips.  He bit her lower lip and moved his mouth next to her ear, his heated breathing leaving her shivering.

"Whose blood was it?" he demanded hotly.

"Adia's," she whimpered and turned her head to lick the side of his face.  He groaned and repositioned her, slamming into her body a brief moment later.  Her fingers clutched his shoulders tightly and his were pressing into her hips, tightening their grip each time their bodies joined together.  The frozen wall on the sweat and blood slicked skin of her back was a sharp contrast to anywhere where her skin met his.  She felt like he emitted heat, painful, sweet, dizzying, setting her straight into a place where all she knew was his touch, his voice.  No need to worry, just to lose control, lose reality.  It was better that way.

He kept a firm grasp on her body, keeping her at the right angle and just high enough for him to hit the right spots.  And he hit them, hard, fast, angry, making her scream in a way that the old dungeons have never heard before.  He closed his eyes, his body already familiar with the rhythms of hers, denying himself the view of the blood, the soot, the dirt.  He felt one of her hands brush over his hard-lined chest and stop at his left nipple, worrying it.  His Quiddich-hardened leg muscles began to quiver gently and for a moment he wondered if he could keep this up before she flicked her fingers and he forgot to think.

She watched as the heat between them took him away too lost herself in the desire to take all of him, to possess him, for he was her only outlet and she could no longer survive without one.  He leaned forward and kissed her, softly, in a manner that conflicted with the ferocity of the maelstrom that moved over and inside her skin.  That was the last push she needed and her body felt like it was exploding ever so slowly, the jagged edges of her oblivion colored strangely silver and red.

He felt her tremble around him and pulled back one last time, before slamming into her harder than before, allowing her explosions to become his.  His legs gave out and they sank to the ground still connected.  He slumped back onto the floor, rolling her onto his chest and sighing, his vision spotted with golden sparks.

"She's gone," she said after a few minutes in a little girl voice.

"Yes," he replied, his fingers unconsciously tracing idle patterns on her back.

"I'm dead too," she stated in a calm voice.

"You can't escape yet," he informed her, a slight tinge of his aristocratic roots showing up in his tone.

"Only every so often," she said thoughtfully.  "Thank you."

"Thank you," he echoed, wondering if these moments were repayment for the all the ones they could not stand or if they would have to pay extra, in more blood, in more pain.  He closed his eyes against it and just listened to her breathe.


	4. Part 4: When He Ran From The Dark

Moments Of Oblivion 

By: ScarletDeva

Author's Note: Damn muse is haunting me. It's hard to say no to a maniacal pyromaniac Druid… This part was actually pretty hard to write… a little more graphic than usual perhaps… 

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not yours probably either. Oh well.

Rating: R

Review Responses:

'HarryPotterWanter' – Okay now I'll just say that your review inspired this part of MOO. Thanks. Enjoy.

'Fiery Slut' – Don't worry about being vulgar. You didn't mention anything I wasn't contemplating. I hope you'll like the rest of this series as much.

'Sungurl8' – You made me all sniffly! That is the best compliment an author can get. I hope I can live up to that.

'Jade' – I'm really glad you like it. I really tried not to make this into a PWP and it's nice to see that you think I succeeded.

'shadow' – You're right. I'm not too clear on ratings. Anyway I'm glad you like it. I tried very hard to keep this about the characters and not just the sex.

'J. Rolande' – More relationship development coming right up. Enjoy. J

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Part 4: When He Ran From The Dark

Draco Apparated into Hogsmeade and immediately broke into a run.  The full moon highlighted his drawn, angular features, his face paler than usual, his eyes wide and wild looking.  His breaths dragged in and out of his lungs in uneven gasps.  Hogwarts, he had to get back to Hogwarts, away from the images in his head, away from everything.  He brought up one fist and unfurled his fingers, smacking them harshly across his face, using the pain to distract himself.  It worked for but a moment, all the images flowing before his eyes the moment the stinging sensation receded.

Lucius had finally gotten to him.  He caught him in Hogsmeade and bodily dragged him back to the Malfoy Manor, then to a secret Death Eater meeting.  Draco shuddered as he walked into the hall, all the faces full of bloodlust and lined with cruelty.  He did not really care about Muggles one way or the other but this was crazy… beyond crazy.  Lucius sat him down and gave him the look that Draco knew meant severe consequences for him in the chance that he did something unacceptable.  His skin burned hot and cold at the same time and then Lucius announced what they were there for.  Muggle torture.  The rest was a blur of blood and screams, Dark Curses and fire.  Draco could only remember how his muscles clenched painfully in an effort not to lunge up and bolt out of there.  He had no chance against the congregation and he knew it.  When it was finally over, he ran outside and threw up under a wilted rose bush.

His legs pumped hard, utilizing ever bit of his strength and stamina, running from the horror he'd witnessed, his father, the Wizard world that created that monstrosity.  He ran over to a decrepit building and snuck in, finding the secret entry into Hogwarts with a practiced brush of his fingers.  His feet pounded against the stone floor of the passage in a quick, frantic tattoo.  He dashed the length of it and emerged into Hogwarts, his hair windswept and his robes slightly wrinkled.  For Draco Malfoy, that was an image no one was accustomed to.  If anyone had seen him, there would be a lot of intense rumor mongering, but luckily it was hours after curfew.

Without a second thought he headed straight for the Hogwarts Squad Leaders' Command Headquarters.  Hermione was known for staying there late most nights to keep working on new and old plans, obviously taking her position as Head Strategist very seriously.  Draco pushed himself harder.  Hermione was the only thing that would make the screams stop, the blood disappear, the pain turn to pleasure.  He turned the last corner, barged into the door and stopped.

Hermione stood in front of a paper-laden table, her head bent and her wildly curly hair bound into a messy ponytail.  Her red skirt and black sweater did little to hide what was under them for Draco had all those features firmly memorized.  He exhaled slowly and wondered if she was ignoring him.  There was no way she did not know he was there.  Well if that was how she wanted to play, he'd do it her way.

He stalked up to her and set his hands on her legs right below the hem of her skirt.  She made a tiny sound in her throat and his hands traveled up ever so slowly.  His still ragged breathing only became more so as he pressed himself against her back and allowed his fingertips to brush against her inner thighs.  

Her hands dropped the papers and grasped his wrists, squeezing almost painfully, not to hinder movement but almost in encouragement.  She had just been reviewing past missions, making tallies of failures and losses.  It was her job to prevent those.  She hadn't.  Whatever he could do to make her forget would welcome eagerly.

***************

Hi guys.

This story past this gets into NC-17. I don't want to get in trouble with ffnet so if you want to read the rest go to my yahoo group. 

You will find the story here:

groups.yahoo.com/group/HPAnExploration/files/ScarletDeva%20fiction/Moments%20Of%20Oblivion/

From now on, I will always post the next part there along with a teaser on ffnet.

Thanks.

Irina


	5. Part 5: When She Took Her Life For A Spi...

Moments Of Oblivion 

By: ScarletDeva

Author's Note: Well now… oh just read. *grins* Who loves me for finally updating?

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not yours probably either. Oh well.

Rating: NC-17

Dedication: J. Rolande, who patiently sat through two hours of listening to me blather on about a new HP idea. Love ya oodles Jenny! And Ange too. And Anee loves you two as well!

Review Responses:

'Ozmandayus' – You finally reviewed! *faints* Anyway, I'll try and satisfy your incessant urges for more of my writing… *grins*

'HarryPotterWanter' – Glad you liked it. I just HAD to abuse Draco after your last review.

'Fiery Slut' – I'm thinking about posting on adultfanfiction.net but I'm not sure if people actually go there.

'Jade' – Nothing I write should be read quickly! LOL Anyway, yes poor Draco… I like abusing him… *evil laughter*

'Claudia Malfoy' – Glad you're enjoying this. Here's some more.

'nightinGale7875' – I like words like "brilliant." Use some more words like that. Heh. Well enjoy the update.

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Part 5: When She Took Her Life For A Spin 

Hermione stalked down the hallway in a huff, her hair and her robes flying behind her.  She wondered if there was smoke coming out of her ears and decided that if there wasn't then there should be.  She had just endured a lecture from Ron, who once again started harping on her position as Squad Commander.  He was very vocal in his dislike of the idea at its conception, saying that Hermione needed to be safe and doing her work as Head Strategist.  Hermione snorted in disgust.  Ron simply did not believe that she could take care of herself and never would, no matter how many times she led assaults on Death Eater hideouts.  He could not accept that Hermione had the right and the capacity to make her own choices and tried to shelter her from everything.  What was most unfair was that he was easier even on Ginny, who took Hermione's side every time even if it did absolutely nothing to curb what they termed as Ron's possessive tendencies.  She briefly felt a tinge of pity for any girl that would become Ron's girlfriend and once again firmly resolved never to be her.  Any desire for that died out fifth year when they began fighting Voldemort.  

Damn that Ron.  Hermione could rip off his emotion reddened ears whenever he got into his annoyingly familiar spiel.  And on top of that, he made her late for a Prefects' meeting with Dumbledore.  Well she'd show Ron yet, yes she would.

***

Draco rushed down the hallway, already late for a meeting in Dumbledore's office.  He had just burned another of Lucius' persistent attempts to bend his son to his will.  He was so agitated that he spent a good twenty minutes cursing his father in several different languages and lost all track of time.  He was now guaranteed to receive glares from all the surviving Prefects and the Head Girl and Boy.  Just great.

The entrance to the Headmaster's office was guarded by a stone gargoyle statue, which was elevated by a matching stone base.  He spotted it a few feet away and then his gaze was drawn unerringly to a slim figure further down the hall.  He sped up his movements, not taking his eyes off the familiar form and smiled when her eyes made contact.  He caught feelings in her gaze that were familiar to him, feelings he was intimately connected with.  There was frustration , exhaustion and anger, furious, swirling anger that turned her already dark brown eyes to an almost onyx.  He held out a hand and as she reached him and took it he pulled her into a tight embrace, his chin resting on top of her hair, which smelled just the way he remembered.  

She whimpered and crushed her arms around him, then pulled back, her eyes staring intently into his.  She absently noted that his silver gaze seemed to be specked with rare dots of a soft blue and then her look dropped to his mouth, his precisely cut, arrogantly formed mouth.  They were already late after all.  She darted out her tongue, laving it across her lower lip briefly before reaching up and touching his lips, his surprisingly soft lips.

His eyes widened, the blues gone, all darkened, molten silver and he pulled her closer, settling his lips on hers.  One taste, one single hint of that crazy combination of char and muffins and all he could think about was how free he suddenly felt.  His hands slid over her back and tangled in her free flowing hair, turning her head at just the right angle.  He felt her own hands caress his back, so close to his skin, regardless of the layers of clothes that separated them.  He moaned ever so slightly, all thoughts and worries forgotten.

She itched to get her fingers on his bare skin, sliding over sweat-dampened smoothness.  The rampant desire to hurt Ron suddenly did not seem so important as she floated away on a familiar, Draco induced ride to oblivion.  She sucked his tongue into her mouth and bit down gently, enjoying the light buck his hips gave in response.  A little alarm sounded in the back of her head and she ignored it in favor of turning him around and pushing him back against the statue.

He started in surprise but then felt her hands at the front of his robes, flitting over his already twitching erection.  He idly wondered if his reactions were normal but forgot that thought as well as she undid his robes and slid her fingers to his zipper, pulling on it with a quick motion, her other hand exploring the skin right above the waistband of his pants and her mouth still battling with his.

***************

Hi guys.

This story past this gets into NC-17. I don't want to get in trouble with ffnet so if you want to read the rest go to my yahoo group. 

You will find the story here:

groups.yahoo.com/group/HPAnExploration/files/ScarletDeva%20fiction/Moments%20Of%20Oblivion/

Thanks.

Irina


End file.
